


Long Enough

by glim



Category: Good Omens - Gaiman & Pratchett
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-20
Updated: 2010-03-20
Packaged: 2017-10-08 04:00:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/72477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glim/pseuds/glim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A year isn't very long when you've existed for six thousand of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Written for slashthedrabble prompt #191, slow.

If they had been mortal, then, Aziraphale supposed, whatever he and Crowley were doing might have been termed "taking it slow." However, they were most certainly not mortal and time, which felt as if it had rearranged itself in the post-non-apocalyptic world, was rushing by Aziraphale in a strange and possibly dangerous fashion.

It wasn't just time that had rearranged itself, though. He and Crowley, they'd rearranged _something_ between the two of them and the past year, from winter through summer to winter again, had passed in a blur of wine bottles, dinner dates, and lingering touches that were no longer anything close to casual.

A year isn't very long when you've existed for six thousand of them.

A year of sudden, strong, affection. Fierce, intense, almost possessive, almost demonic, Aziraphale thought, until he realized it wasn't just Crowley who felt that way and that the thrum of need and desire between the two of them was just as much, if not more, his as it was Crowley's.

It took him four months to figure that one out, much to Aziraphale's chagrin. Things (wonderful, indefinable _things_, like glances and touches and the softening of Crowley's features at unexpected and even sober moments) and their meanings had changed and while part of Aziraphale worried that he couldn't tell where on the scale of good and evil this new (re)arrangement existed, another part of him was more worried he'd never be able to fully know each of those wonderful things, moments, and meanings.

"Happy new year, same as the old year," Crowley greeted Aziraphale fifteen hours into that new year, a bottle of champagne in one hand and two glasses in the other. "Might as well celebrate together."

"It doesn't have to be quite the same."

In the half-lit back room of the bookshop, between the shuffle of footsteps, the clink of glasses, the fizzing of champagne, and the brush of familiar fingertips, time slowed down. Just long enough for Aziraphale to envision it stretching out in front of him into an eternity of moments he wouldn't have to worry about capturing as long as he let himself live them.

Crowley rested his hand atop Aziraphale's. "How different are you thinking?"

"Some things can't change, of course, but other things, for us…" Aziraphale laced their fingers together. "If, perhaps, you were amenable, as I think you might be."

"You know, I'm not just here to tempt you, not this time." Crowley refilled both their glasses with the fine, bubbling champagne and waited until they'd both had a few more sips to speak again. "If you need time to think about it…"

"I know." Aziraphale placed his glass down on the table and leaned in to touch his lips to Crowley's. The first kiss was soft, the press of champagne-damp lips and the slip of Crowley's tongue against his, and Aziraphale couldn't help but think that he'd been a fool to dread this moment. "And, I think, my dear, we've waited long enough."


End file.
